I Could've Sworn That I Was Yours
by Mystikat
Summary: There's no such thing as a clean break, especially when two-thirds are of the opinion that there shouldn't be a break at all. Puck/Rachel/Santana. Future fic. Rating for language and sexual content.
1. from the start

**I Could've Sworn That I Was Yours**

_prologue: "from the start"_

They get fucking _married_.

Rachel just can't seem to comprehend the entire situation, gaping at a sheepish looking Noah and Santana - who seems more irritated than satisfied.

"W-what?" She stutters out, "When? _How_."

Then, "Were you drunk?"

"At least one of us was," Santana grumbles.

That doesn't make sense, she thinks, but doesn't call Santana on it because she's suddenly feeling a little drained.

It's not that Noah and Santana aren't compatible; they have plenty of things in common. The major one being that both of them are unrepentive assholes to just about everyone, including each other (and occasionally, but not usually, to her).

That's not to say they haven't changed since high school, but the day someone describes either as nice is the day they've both had a personality lobotomy.

They might actually be too compatible; in the worst ways possible. Leaving them alone together for an extended period of time insures escalating terrorist actions against their neighbors until another one snaps and moves out. Rachel's pretty sure that if the landlord wasn't terrified of them, they would be out on the butts by now.

(_Rachel had placed her suitcases inside the door and eyed Santana and Puck playing RISK at their dining room table. _

"_Would either of you care to share why Ms. Peterson from 2-A is outside crying and loading her things into a moving van?"_

_Noah raised an eyebrow. Santana rolled her eyes. Rachel decided she didn't want the details anyway._

_Instead she grabbed her luggage and retreated into her room, resolving to either move out or stay at home more often._)

Santana and Noah are watching her too closely for her comfort, and instinctively she dons her best show face and embraces them, laughingly proclaiming that this calls for champagne before rushing into the kitchen. She doesn't understand why she feels like a sixteen year old again.

(Alone.)

Rachel can hear them talking to each other in low tones, and she knows they're discussing her - the frustration in their voices tells her that much. It's really irritating that neither of them take her at face value when she wants them to. She supposes it's a side effect that comes from being as intimate as they've been. And -

Oh.

Oh, that's right. That is going to end.

Well, has already ended before she even knew that it was in sight.

She doesn't know how long she stands in the kitchen holding the bottle of champagne, she just knows that when the murmurs from the other room stop, it's time to go.

She takes the fire escape out the kitchen window. (Even distressed she still appreciates the drama of this course of action.)

If she'd had the time, she still wouldn't have left a note. After all, hasn't everything that needed to be said already was?

(Not even close.)

* * *

**Author's Note: **Even though I have two uncompleted multichapters and plenty of prompts I should be working on, that's not enough to stop me from starting this. _So there_. (The next chapter for My Heart Is Reeling is half done and will be up in a few days, though.)

If you have no idea what the fuck is going on with this story, just wait for the next chapter that goes into explanation/elaboration on it all. To me, prologues are meant to be short and cryptic - or just not much into details.

Title from "Boys With Girlfriends" by Meiko. Chapter titles leeched from the same.


	2. she was listening to your song

**I Could've Sworn That I Was Yours**

_chapter one: "she was listening to your song"_

There's a time in Senior year when everyone manages to be single for the entirety of two weeks. In the week previous to it, Quinn walks into the choir room with one finger short a ring and longingly glancing at Sam before sitting down next to Brittany. Sam just stares straight ahead and looks like he hasn't slept at all last night. That's when everything starts unraveling.

Tina and Artie, both newly broken up with Mike and Brittany respectively for unknown reasons (everyone suspects it's because of a _Artieandtina_ reboot) get up to sing a duet the next day. Expecting a sickeningly sweet "oh the joys of returning to old loves" song, what they get is the slow train wreck of the pair declaring their hearts to "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead", grimly looking at their exes like they _did_ wish they were dead. It should be melodramatic, maybe, listening to them spit the last line out ("_I'm not sorry there's nothing to save._"), but it isn't. It's just bitter.

Finn and Santana end relatively quietly - bizarre considering that every other relationship for Finn ended loud, tearful, and very much in public (usually in front of the rest of New Directions). Especially bizarre considering that _Santana_ is the other half of the break up. But what happens is one day Santana sits in Puck's lap instead of by Finn, and Finn just avoids looking at them at all.

You might conclude that Puck and Santana are the exception to the rule of everyone being single. The thing is, though, even together the pair is, for all intents and purposes, single. Rachel has likened it to a continuous one night stand and it just seems like the pair is resigned to their fate. She can't help but feel guilty, knowing that yet another one of Finn's girlfriends has left him for his (yes, even now) best friend. Hopefully Puck and Santana happened after _Finnandsantana_ ended, because this is already cruel enough.

When Rachel stumbles upon Santana in the restroom a few days later though, it becomes evident that she wasn't the one who ditched Finn. Rachel doesn't even think before wrapping the other girl in a hug; just reacting to the stark, tear-stained face (surprisingly, Santana is not a pretty crier) and unable to stop herself.

Santana just heaves a broken sigh and clutches her, nails digging into her back until she winces slightly. They stand there until the bell rings. Santana is the first to pull away, grabs her bag and Rachel's hand, and proceeds to kidnap her midday to drive to the nearest 7/11 where she crooks her finger at a man and suddenly they're at her house with a six pack of beer and Santana proceeds to rant about that "fucking prick". Rachel drinks half a beer before discreetly pouring the rest into a nearby plant. Santana might have noticed if she wasn't on her third drink by then.

The next day it's like it never happened. Rachel gets it, she does. Santana opened herself up to her in a big way and most likely because Rachel caught her at just the moment when she couldn't help herself. Hell, it could have been Quinn and she probably would have broken just the same. It doesn't suddenly make them BFFs. Still, a part of her just feels _used_. She wishes it wasn't so easy to discard her. Yeah, sometimes she just might be desperate enough to even want Santana as a friend.

The only change, really, is Santana begins watching her. Interested, but not intent. Like she's waiting. Maybe she's just wanting for the right time to terrorize Rachel into keeping her mouth shut about the incident. During this time, she might become a little paranoid. Just a bit.

So, for two weeks Mr. Schue has a shit fest of high school romance to deal with… which would be just like every other week except that this time they can't even pull themselves together for ensemble songs, much less solos or duets that aren't about betrayal or forbidden love. Honestly, though, he doesn't have a leg to stand on in all his speeches about not letting personal drama interfere with what this club stands for. Please. Like it hasn't been obvious from day one that that's exactly what it stands for… with Mr. Schue setting the standard. Glee club has become less about opening up to joy and more about a singing group therapy session without the trained therapist guiding and mediating the proceedings. Basically, dysfunctional as hell.

To his credit, the first week he really does try some reasonable group bonding exercises… until it comes out that Emma Pillsbury-Howell is pregnant. The second week's assignment is suddenly about finding their biggest regret and performing a song that best expresses that regret.

Rachel thinks dysfunctional only just begins to describe their group, really.

The start of the second week also is the start of Noah joining in on the "stare at Rachel" game, along with not too subtle whispering between Santana and him. One day Sam sits too close to them and ends up looking vaguely traumatized. Or intrigued. Whatever it is, he pulls her aside later that same day and cryptically tells her to watch her back around the two.

Which isn't ominous at all, obviously. She could have done without the warning - she's paranoid enough without having her wariness validated. When good does knowing that do her? It's not like she can stop whatever they're plotting. The best she'll probably do is damage control after the fact.

"You know," she hears Santana coyly telling Noah one day, "my birthday is coming up. Got anything special for me, Puckerman?"

He tells her he _always_ has something special for her. Rachel suspects he probably grabbed his crotch at this point, but she's busying herself in her locker trying to keep a low profile with them so close.

Week two ends that Friday when Noah turns up at her house around seven in the evening and tells her that she really can't miss out on Santana's party. As in, he really isn't giving her a choice. She resigns herself to whatever is waiting for her there - just hoping it won't be something out of _Carrie_. Just in case, she has him wait downstairs while she changes into a black tank top over the white peasant blouse she'd worn to school. When she comes back he smiles at her (actually _smiles_) and pulls her out the door, not unlike Santana's kidnap from school close to a week and a half ago. When they arrive at Santana's, Noah pops open his glove compartment and takes out a red ribbon, messily tying it around her wrist with a smirk and offering the explanation that it's the theme for this party. She doesn't bother asking where _his_ bow is.

Inside they find Santana draped sideways in a love seat - headphones on and humming lightly along to her music.

At this point she fears the worst because _no one else is there_ which just means no witnesses and she needs to escape as soon as humanly possible.

The theme of the party is probably strangling her with the ribbon on her wrist.

Instead Santana just smirks at her and turns off her iPod, rising to go in the kitchen and return with a carton of orange juice and a bottle of clear liquid that she suspects isn't water. It's confirmed when Santana tells her to sit her ass down and enjoy her screwdriver because she's not getting drunk without her joining in this time.

"You owe me a shrub, Berry." Apparently she hadn't been that discreet disposing of the beer in the potted plant. Slight of hand has never been her strong point.

Tentatively sipping at her drink, she slowly relaxes as time passes and the two seem perfectly happy to pop in a DVD and drink their own beverages. So maybe she'd been bracing herself for nothing… maybe this was Santana's way of thanking her for her company when she'd opened up before. It's nice listening to Noah mock the movie and Santana egg him on while she feels a light buzz settle in. They grow quiet during a more risqué scene in which the lead man slides his hand between his leading lady's thighs - both of them giving into each other after all the tension that had been building, finally coming to a head after they narrowly escaped a deadly situation.

A beat after he does so, Rachel feels a hand settle on her knee, a thumb gently stroking just above it. She turns wide eyes on Santana, who is suddenly very close and no longer looking like she's waiting. No, now very much _intent_.

Her breath stutters out and she gulps down an inhale - opening her mouth but completely unsure what to say. Santana smiles and asks her if she needs another drink. Noah presses a kiss onto her neck from the other side and _yes_, she really does need that drink.

"It's okay, baby," Noah soothes and runs a hand down her back as she downs a second screwdriver. "We got you."

Santana tugs at the ribbon on her wrist, drawling, "Happy birthday to me." She smiles at Noah. "You always get me something special, Puckerman."

"Haven't failed you yet, babe."

"I hope you both know that you can't just give people to each other, don't you?" Rachel protests, suddenly very aware of the situation and feeling like an utter fool. And maybe just a little (_completely_) turned on.

Noah kisses her, impossibly soft and, damn it, it's not enough. Everything is too much and just not quite at the same time. He murmurs, "But you're gonna give yourself to us, Rach. It's just fucking rude to go to a birthday without a gift."

Santana bites her earlobe, tells her, "I didn't have a long list this year."

"I think I need another drink."

Noah shakes his head. "I don't want the yes that way, baby. I'll put in the time if I have to, but I'm not going down that path again. Tipsy, yeah. Drunk? Fuck no. Besides, can't risk you not remembering this."

Santana shrugs. "Don't really have the same problem, Berry, but Puckerman has 'issues' and a shit load of condoms _everywhere_ to show for it. Plus this little hold up."

"I swear to God, Santana, don't think I won't give you those birthday spankings you fucking got coming."

Rachel feels a tight coil in her stomach at his words, physically responding to the words that aren't even directed at her. A little sigh leaks out of her, turning their attention back to her. Santana smirks, catching on quickly. "You wanna split with Puck or me, Berry?"

"I'm a virgin." She blurts out, and immediately berates herself because that just probably killed the mood and as crazy as this is, she can't be sure if she's getting off more on the attention or just picking up on the layer of lust in the room mixing with the alcohol. (Or maybe it's just Santana and Noah. It's scary how easy they flip her switch from guarded to near plaint.)

"Hmm," the hand that never left her knee slides to her inner thigh. "You don't say."

She gives. Grabs the back of Santana's neck and tugs her in for a kiss.

Noah laughs beside her, sliding his hands under her shirt. "Watch out, babe, the girl's a biter."

Santana moans into her mouth, obviously not turned off _at all_ at this new information.

They miss the rest of the movie. Including the climax.

Rachel, however, doesn't miss hers. Red ribbon tied around both her wrists behind her, she watches Noah lay Santana out on his lap to make good on his promise, before turning their attention to her.

Her voice is a rasp the next day, and there are distinct marks encircling her wrists.

By Monday the two weeks of singlehood in the glee club is broken. When Rachel stands up to present her solo, she ignores the assignment of regrets altogether, and lays her whole self out there to the two her shook her so deeply.

"_You spin me around and make me feel like I could shine_."

And, yes, they follow her home that day.

Less than a year later following her to New York.

They all know they got a gift that day.

(It takes six years before she's ready to sing of regret, but by then it is just too late.

No one is here to listen.)

* * *

**Author's Note: **Again, chapter title taken from "Boys With Girlfriends" by Meiko. "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead" is from the fabulous Stars and the song that Rachel sings for the not-assignment is "Shine" by Rosi Golan. I am not a fan of posting full songs… just sticking to the key lyrics. Not that the rest aren't relevant… they just take up more space than needed.

So now we have where it began. I apparently could not resist making this kinky. That might pop up again, but it's not by any means going to become the focus of the story. I know this chapter revolves around the build up to sex, but it will go back to the full fledged relationship story line soon. I hope the melodrama in the last two lines didn't put anyone off. Like the kink, I could not help myself.

Feedback is love! Even just a "update soon" or "I liked this" is awesome. Not required, but nice.

(Where is _My Heart Is Reeling_? In the dog house in my mind. It is a defiant little bitch.)


End file.
